


Haunted

by janetcarter



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Cemetery, Cigarettes, F/F, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Overdose, POV First Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22277047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janetcarter/pseuds/janetcarter
Summary: Elizabeth visits Zoe’s grave before leaving for Babylon 5.
Relationships: Elizabeth Lochley/Zoe
Kudos: 3
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> Written back in October. For the Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt "Flashbacks."

Some people say ghosts exist. They say shadows dart from the corner of their vision. They say footsteps echo behind them, even though they’re sure they’re alone. They say cold whispers blow against their ear, but they never have an answer when asked what the deceased’s message had been.

These people, they say the dead come back to life, but I know from experience that isn’t the case. If it was, I wouldn’t be walking through black pointed gates, leaves crunching beneath my feet, watching the present fade away.

We used to visit this cemetery when we were teens. I still remember Zoe sitting cross-legged up on one of the fancier tombstones, a cigarette resting between her fingers and knees poking through ripped jeans. If ghosts were real, they would’ve haunted us for how many singed butts we’d flicked into the grass. I don’t see the yellow remains now, though. They’re six feet under. Just like her. 

We used to wander through the sea of headstones untethered to any particular one. All the names and shapes were indistinguishable from one another back then. So it doesn’t feel right to have a designated target. It doesn’t feel right to see her name engraved in the stone at my feet. 

My exhale clouds the air in front of me.

“I took the long way,” I finally explain, like I was late to a coffee date. “Couldn’t bring myself to drive past the motel.” 

I don’t know why, but I still give her a chance to respond. I hear a crow, some wind maybe. When I look down, the stone is the same. 

“I still wish it’d burned down before we ever found it. We were so desperate for a bed and hot shower… not desperate enough to go back, not at first, but when we found shelter we thought we could do it. We made a home.” The lump in my throat hurts as I swallow. “And then…” 

I wipe my eyes, barely noticing the scratchy fabric of my glove. My eyes follow along every engraved letter. For a moment I let myself think about her reaching her 18th birthday. We would’ve come here to celebrate life, oblivious to the graves of people who’d lived long enough to earn their passing; the graves of anyone but her. 

“You know, I still see you everywhere,” I admit. “Sometimes I think you’re there and when I turn around… it’s all empty space. And I’m all alone. It’s times like those I get so tempted, Zoe. You have no idea how hard it is without you.

“But, uh, I’ve stayed clean.” The corner of my mouth twitches, trying to smile. But it isn’t something I deserve to celebrate, especially not at the grave of someone who won’t ever be sober. “After all these years I’ve managed.” 

I bite my bottom lip, chapped from the chilly air. I don’t realize how easily it bleeds until I taste iron.

“I wish you could tell me what happened, if it was an accident or if...” Tears blur the sharp stone lettering. “And sometimes I feel mad at you for leaving me behind. But then I think about how screwed up we were. We weren’t getting any better together. We just kept getting worse.”

I tuck my hands back into my coat pockets, wishing she could hear my thoughts so I wouldn’t have to say them out loud, even though I know she’ll never hear me anyway. 

“It should’ve been me.” I take a deep breath. “Am I a bad person for resenting it? Even after all this time, that you got to… and that I have to keep going?” 

Silence. 

“I’m sorry, Zo,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Silence. I don’t know why I still expect anything else. 

“Anyway, I, uh, I have something to tell you. I got offered a job commanding a space station.” The corner of my mouth quirks again, wanting to be proud; wanting _Zoe_ to be proud. I clear my throat. “So… I won’t be able to come back for a while. It’s different than being deployed, I’m gonna be real far away, busy, too. I won’t have much time to come back. 

“I just… I hope you’re not mad.”  
  


I try not to entertain fantasy. I know we were both dragging each other down lower and lower into our addictions. If she hadn’t died, it would’ve been me. But I still wish I could’ve rang her up and told her the news. We would’ve packed our bags together and left this planet behind. 

I take off a glove, pressing bleeding lips against cold fingertips, and touch her stone. “I love you, Zo...” 

When I walk away, I think I see a cigarette butt burning. It turns out to be a leaf, one of many in the changing autumn. When I get home, and probably on Babylon 5, too, I know it’s going to happen again: the blur, the footsteps, the flashbacks. The past surrounds me even as I leave the pointed gates. 

I suppose ghosts are real; just never in the ways we want.


End file.
